Married To A Ghost

      "I expected a kiss from you, though."

   He read that again. Then again and again till he was sure that what he had read was what he was thinking. 

    He paused and stared blankly at the screen of his PC. The light projecting from it was taunting to the retinas and he had tried to get a computer glasses in vain. He didn't even have an idea what twas called. 

     He would had loved to visit the doctor but he wasn't ready for the 'Hospital Drama'. That was what he would call it. 

    Doctors might possibly detect another problem and then prescribe some drugs he had no budget for. And then he would feel jumpy and sad that he was sick. Nope. He would savor the pain as though twas some aroma. 

    He bounced back to reality. But reality was confusing to him. Before he left her, she acted as though she didn't enjoy the day. She acted as though she would had preferred been left alone, but now was saying that?

     That was why he had taken a three years break from ladies ever since his last break up. Ladies did have their own dramas too. Theirs are way more tactical and logical than the doctor's. He had no idea which he was supposed to dread the most. 

      "Really?"

      He typed but toggled the arrow, fiddling with it, making it hover over the question mark. He wanted to hit the enter key but he felt deep down that he wasn't satisfied with that reply. 

     He canceled it and retyped...

      "Really, do you..."

     He cancelled the 'do' and replaced it with the past form. A mistake he wouldn't make even if he were writing in the dreams. He was feeling really jumpy and was hoping dearly that he wouldn't mess that up. 

    One thing he was certain about was the fact that the lady was expecting a response. In her end, her chat room would have the three ellipsis indicating that he was typing. 

     He felt odd about it. He was taking long. If he typed only a word, she might be surprised that despite the ellipsis which had been at her end since over three minutes? 

     That shouldn't matter. He cancelled the second text. He wanted to close his eyes and type that but that was funny and childish. 

    He locked up. Whatever comes comes, he typed,

     "FaceTime?"

      The message popped off and he saw that it'd been delivered. 

     He couldn't tell if she had read it or not. Twas through SMS. But the difference was that, twas an advanced technology. She could see when he was typing and he could too, but none knows whether or not either party have read it. 

     He waited for her response and it felt like twasnt going to come. 

    He wanted to start making up sundry hypotheses about the lady whether twould be cool to go into a relationship with her. 

     She seemed rather preserved and somewhat secretive. And twas so obvious now. Her text says that. 

     He stared at the new Apple MacBook pro. He had hopped from HP MacBook to Apple's. HP's constant BIOS setup pop ups and several other odds scared the hell outta him. Plus he needed something much bigger. The 13-inch monster would do. 

     He had linked his phone to his laptop and could do whatever he could on his phone with it. He could make calls,send SMS etc etc. 

     No reply came from her. He stood up from where he was. He slid his parlour flip-flops on. Twas a portable living room. Well furnished with a fire place for winter. 

     He headed for the toilet to free his nose of the phlegm. He had been fighting with it since he returned from the cafeteria with her. 

     She had actually opined that they met after work. He worked from home but she worked as a journalist in a very successful publishing enterprise. More of a private firm with the little influence of the government. 

       He heard his laptop beep. He rushed from the toilet to the sofa and slid himself into the large folded chair. 

     Twas a message from her. His hope dropped at what he was. He read out,

     "No?"

     Actually. She sent, "No.". But of course you should guess his reaction. 

    He felt a little disappointed. He muttered to himself,

     "I knew twas coming there. Ladies and complications. Damn!"

     He picked up his laptop and walked through the aisle between the chair and centre table. He made his way to his room. 

    He firstly dropped the laptop on the bed but that didn't sound like a good idea. He wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. Twas just 8pm. He should be up till probably 11. 

    Or he would make sure she was asleep before he would think of blinking his eyes let alone closing. That was a dumb idea though, how was he going to know whether or not she was asleep?

     He resolved on sliding into the Arne Jacobsen-Style Swan Chair. He placed the PC on his lap. That wasn't wise though but there was nothing to it. Just some empty computer threat. 

    He lifted it off his lap and placed it on the sister table opposite him. He felt hungry. Not like real hungry, but eat-some-bugger-or-toast-or-sandwich kinda hunger. 

    He leaned into the chair and thought of what to eat and like a haughty hurricane hurried through his mind the sandwich he had in the fridge. 

    He stood up to go and grab it. He entered the kitchen and put it in the microwave. As soon as he was done, he placed it in some plate and placed the plate in a tray. Then he placed a serviette by the plate and grabbed a bottle of the rich wine. He hated keeping track of the names. 

    He put the bottle beside the tray too, by the left and said to himself,

     "It's good to serve oneself rightly."

    He chuckled. Twasnt genuine of course but there was nothing he could do. The thought of the lady still plied his heart. 

    As he let the door to the kitchen shut itself, he heard his phone ring. He walked quickly to the room and dropped the tray next to his phone on the comfy. 

    He looked at the phone. Ishbelle? But she just said a 'No'. Like she wasn't going to talk to him or something. Probably he was the one thinking too much. 

    He noticed his hand shaking. He should pick up the phone and not be a dickhead. He settled with his instinct and picked up the phone. 

    "Hey!"

    She was the first to speak. He was very glad. He would have enough time to think about how to respond and what to say. 

     "Hi. You called."

    Uhmm uhmm! Dummy. That was not the right thing to say. He was supposed to had waited for her to continue, and just 'hi' should had been enough. 

    Why was he even being so hard on himself. He shouldn't be. He didn't mind. He waited for her response. He thought he already lost her but came then the lightning,

    "Sorry, I couldn't take the FaceTime. And sorry it took me long to give a reply. Shit. The neighbors here would strangle me. Every now and then I'm a thing they want to talk to. Remember Stanley?"

     He tried to process all the things she had said, but he would simply have to let some go. If he was to process all, he wouldn't give her a reply until 2am. 

    But he did really want to tell her not to call herself a thing. She was more than that. Though it had often been said that beauty is the problem of the beholder. Not in her case.

 Even a careful Angel would trip. Why not? She was a blonde, thick, curvy and Voluptuous with a nice set of lips and snow-white teeth. Damn! Lets see you resist her. 

     "Stanley? Nope. I don't know. I guess you haven't told me about him. Probably skipped your mind."

    She sighed. His mind cut. Had he stepped on her nerve. He prayed he didn't. She came on,

    "My bad. Thought I told you. He's a neighbor. He called on me. Tracia and Luke were at odds and I am the only who talk sense into the Tracia lady. She's as obstinate as fuck. OMG."

    He sat in the swan chair and took a bite of the sandwich. He was becoming gutsy. He could say that to himself. 

     He poured himself a cup of the wine and slurped. 

     "Are you eating? Am I disturbing?"

     She quizzed. Damn! He almost spilled the wine all over himself. He helped himself off the odds and placed the cup on the tray. Damn! He had forgotten that he was still on phone with her. 

     "Sorry, no, I'm not."

     He lied. She mustn't discover that he told her a lie. She might not take it lightly. Small things piss ladies off. He had lived to learn that and had been told even by his female friends. 

     "FaceTime then."

     She said. Hell! Why had he told her a lie in the first place. He was doomed. 

    He was going to give her an excuse not to have the call but she already dropped the phone call. 

    In a jiffy, the light of the PC came on and her bikini stocked beach pic came up. He knew that she mustn't even see that picture he saved from her IG. That might be internet stalking to her. 

    He thought of what to do. He had lied that he wasn't eating, and dropping that call or watching it ring itself to sleep would be another epistle to write home about. 

    He was hungry too, he couldn't let the food slide. He could had simply hid it somewhere safe. 

    He had only five seconds to decide what to do and another five to carry the action out. 

     He decided to munch the sandwich real fast in just a swallow. He would have to suffer the side effect after he might had dropped the call. 

     Then he swigged the remaining portion of the wine left in the glass and answered the call. 

    "What kept you that long?"

    He was expecting that though but he wasn't ready for it. He was still struggling with his stomach and had his face sideways. 

     "What are you doing? Imma just drop the call, maybe later."

    That was another death sentence. He turned to her immediately and met her bold face. 

     Her eyelashes were neat and her lips were at their best, but her eyebrows were knitted. Even at that, the beauty couldn't be tucked beneath the rusty rage. The sorcery prevailed. 

     Then at once, she bursted into a laughter he didn't envisage. She laughed for as long as ten seconds. He had no idea what was wrong. 

    The lady should be a clown. He was sure that few seconds ago, she was frowning and then she bursted into such laughter? That was something. 

    Then she brought her beautiful face which she had thrown away to the laughter closer and said,

     "Eric, what have you done to your face?"

    He was confused and surprised. 

     "Mr face."

    "OMG... You're a .."

    She resumed the laughter again until he was forced to look into the mirror of his phone. Damn! He had the cream of the sandwich all over his chin and jaws. How couldn't he possibly notice?

   He was having a cream sandwich. 

    Then he understood why she had been laughing. He wanted to join her too but he felt stupid. She must had discovered that he lied to her. 

    He was awaiting the sentence. Probably, the you-can't-be-trusted sentence or the go-to-hell sentence. No! She couldn't possibly say that. 

    She sucked the remaining yoghurt of laughter served and looked at him. He had cleaned his face up it with the serviette. 

      "Let's talk tomorrow. Please enjoy your meal. You shouldn't had done that. If you'd told me you were eating I wouldn't had bothered you. Be fine. Nightie."

     She chuckled for the last time and dropped the call. 

    That was super fast to him. He didn't see it ending that way. He stared blankly at the MacBook for a while. 

      A message from one of his clients popped up on the right corner of the screen. He wasn't seeing it. 

    He had a mixed feeling. Was she happy by dropping the call or feigned it and was somewhat angry with him? He wasn't sure. 

   But he would love to stay on the positive side. 

    His attention was diverted. He felt a funny sound coming from his stomach. Damn! He felt poo reaching for he tip of his boxers short. 

    He couldn't even remember his last name, all he could think of was the toilet. 

    He jumped off over the PC, he had a bang. He had no idea whether or not it crashed. He would come back to fix it. 

   First thing first.